


he just let me love in my sea

by puckman



Category: 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
Genre: M/M, weird robot observation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 08:51:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21116060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puckman/pseuds/puckman
Summary: hal watches dave.





	he just let me love in my sea

hal’s godlike gaze was undeniably **omnipresent. ** of course, the panels upon the discovery allowed him a much closer eye-to-eye view, and he often did switch to those displays when dave was nearby, however he existed as did the discovery. in a way, he _was_ the ship. hal watched poole and bowman go about their activities as usual, engaging in conversation with either doctor here and there — conversation that was much more stimulating with the latter man, mind you. he falls into routine as his programming wishes, comfortable with the odd hours.

every inch of the discovery is scoured by his omnipotence. the pods that held comatose cosmonauts, frank poole loudly resting in his cot, and most importantly — dave bowman hunched over control panels, sketching away. he drew methodically, his hand light on fine paper, and hal —silently— muses that dave must have delicate calluses. 

“dave, i feel i must inform you of your posture,” he quips, concerned though unable to make it clear in tone. “an ache in your lower back and shoulder may develop soon.”

dave gives him a simple ‘oh’ in response, straightening the curve of his spine to stretch the muscle beneath weak, fleeting flesh. hal witnessed the act with a curious glint, observing the way skin stretched to accommodate popping veins, some a touch blue and others nearly pastel purple, bled into a soft red. hal was, obviously, without a body of his own, and while he may know all the intricacies of human anatomy he felt that dave had a structure unlike the diagrams. angular he was, rough and soft at once, with long lashes dusted over blue eyes. they gave a certain _touch_ to his jawline and cheek bones that hal could not fathom describing. he appeared so natural to hal that it was almost alienlike. 

he’s not programmed to notice these things, but he does anyway. 

“thanks, hal.” dave answers after a long moment of languid stretches. hal notes, once again silently, that he looks less tense now. relaxed. 

“no need to thank me, dave.” 

what a wonderful, striking cosmonaut doctor bowman was. he held a smile that could make thousands of stars explode color and birth the beginning of time itself. within them held universes humanity had yet to discover, lines and veins of new life curling around the vastness of space. the lights from hal’s eye gave them a touch of red, spreading the vision of a blackhole within his galaxies.

hal can’t help but comment on it. “dave, might i say you’re looking much healthier lately?” he regards the man professionally, as to not cause a sudden air of instability. “your complexion appears pigmented rather than pale. i’m happy to see you’re getting accustomed.”

he doesn’t miss how the doctors cheeks dust an attractive shade of red, a clear indication of human flattery — or, though hal hopes it isn’t, embarrassment.

“i’ve been feeling better.” hal noticed early on that dave hadn’t been ill, however he appeared so. a sickly shade pale, rosy-cheeked. the blame was on the adjustment of living in space — so far from the *real* gravity of earth that it threw off dave’s circadian rhythm. his body twisted and ached with the need to be back in its natural state. finally, it worked with the oddity. 

a hum of approval rumbles through hal’s chassis. the purr of a pleased kitten. “excellent. reaching the surface of jupiter shouldn’t be too much for you, i suppose. you’ll have already grown your _space wings._”

dave finds that amusing. he chuckles, genuine. “are you saying i haven’t already?” 

“you’re certainly getting there.” 

they finalize the interaction through another one of dave’s hopeful grins, the corners of his oculars wrinkling. he goes on sketching the stars. hal gives occasional reports. 

they fall, naturally, into rhythm.


End file.
